Stole
by Blackcat88
Summary: AU. When Jack couldn't take it anymore, lives ended up, as the song puts it, stole.


**Author's Notes: I swear I feel like the laziest person here on this website…I haven't done anything in ages. I just felt like putting that out there, now on to more important matters. **

**Surprisingly enough, I got the idea for this while trying to think of a romance story for, well, any of my favorite shows (sure there are already tons of them out there, but why not?). It popped into my head at the same time when I first listened to "Stole" after I had gotten it downloaded into my iPod, so for those who've heard the song, you may already know what you're in for. If you don't like violence/gore and don't want to be reminded of all those school shooting tragedies, avoid this. Also, there's some cursing. Otherwise, please give it a shot and review (no flames; nobody likes those). This is a oneshot, AU story. **

**Edit: After seeing a couple people in their own fanfics talking about one of the site's newer policies, something about writers not being allowed to have song lyrics or other such things copied and pasted into their stories, I've decided to make a (hopefully, not too major) change to this story. Mainly, taking out the song lyrics. I hope it doesn't make too big of a difference. I've never been in trouble here, but the threat of being banned makes me nervous.**

**Disclaimer: I do not Xiaolin Showdown or the song "Stole" (performed by Kelly Rowland). Here's a link to the lyrics in case you were curious, sans the spaces: http // www.lyricsstyle .com /k/ kellyrowland/ stole.html **

**Remember, I own nothing.**

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**Stole**

Jack Spicer stood before the doors of his school, preparing himself for what he planned to do. He looked quite grim with his black trench, black shirt and pants, yellow goggles, pale skin (which contrasted, horribly some might say, with his red hair) and a scowl on his face. He thought to himself about how wonderful it would be to be without his peers making his life miserable. God he hated them so.

It was officially called the Xiaolin University of China though most knew it simply as the Xiaolin Temple. Many, many years ago, a monk by the name of Dashi established it, wanting the building to be a place of higher learning. Renovations had been done to make it seem more modern, like an average high school, yet it still retained the temple "feel" to it. It was a place that ranked quite high internationally, had several unusual courses (including mythology, magic, and martial arts), and had administrators who insisted on teaching students from all over the world. There were two ways to get in: either you showed great intellectual or physical promise or mom and dad had the cash to buy you a place in the school.

In Jack's case he had the rich parents and the brains, though that wasn't really what he was thinking about right then. He checked his coat, making sure he brought everything with him; a shotgun and several handguns. Any and every gun he could get his hands on. Mom and Dad never asked questions and neither did the guy who owned the pawn shop once Jack had waved the handful of money in his face. But now he had spent enough time standing at the front door; he was going to do what he came here to do, and no one would stop him.

He went in and took the first right down to the teacher's lounge. It was decent enough, with wood flooring, a few windows, two couches and several chairs, and a good paint job. In the room were two of Jack's worst enemies; Ms. Wuya and Mr. Young. They had been talking to each other and had not even noticed him come in through the door. Jack stood there and waited for them to acknowledge him. Ms. Wuya was the first to look up.

"Well look who it….is," she said, finally seeing him and the gun he held. A look of terror appeared on both their faces.

Jack hated how Ms. Wuya gave him a hard time; he was always the one she yelled at, the one she blamed for every bit of trouble in class, the one she gave all the detention slips to. She'd even given him failing grades just because she could. And she'd called his parents many times, though they never really did anything about it. She would be the first to die.

It was quick; one squeeze of the trigger and she was dead, falling to the floor like a rag doll with a hole in her head. Mr. Young's mouth dropped open and he began shaking, his lips trembling, trying to form words. That's right, thought Jack, cower like the dog you are.

Mr. Young was even worse than Ms. Wuya; he ignored Jack and wouldn't even give him the time of day. Even if Jack was looking to talk to him, for help or advice, he would turn away and speak to someone else. With another squeeze of the trigger, Mr. Young was down, with a hole in his chest.

Jack couldn't believe how good this felt.

Two down, so many more to go.

Jack could hear talking in the other room, which was connected to the lounge by a door to his left; it was the "Help Room", where students would meet with teachers for (what else?) extra help. He walked to the door and opened it and saw Mr. Fung speaking with a small boy named Omi.

"I hope I'm not being a bother Mr. Fung, for you see, I was hoping to find out about extra credit. I know I probably don't need it, but it most certainly would not hurt, would it?" he said.

"Of course you're not being a bother Omi. I did have a few things in mind for…the…class," said Mr. Fung, now noticing Jack. Omi saw him too and even saw a glimpse of the two dead teachers in the lounge.

"Great ghost of Dashi," whimpered Omi.

Jack did not share many classes with Omi, what with the bald, yellow boy being a grade or two under him. He did see him often in the halls and the boy's ego grated Jack to no end. He was The Teacher's Pet, sucking up to any adult in the building whenever he could and saying as much in front of those he knew. He probably did not mean to come across as an irritating little twerp, but nevertheless that was what Omi seemed to be. And he constantly messed up whatever slang phrases he used. Then there was that time.

"_Mr. Spicer, do you or do you not have last night's homework?" asked Mr. Fung. _

"_No sir. I…forgot," Jack said, very weakly._

_Omi, who was seated by Jack in the front, raised his hand. Mr. Fung acknowledged him. _

"_I do not mean to be harsh Jack, but you really must remember your assignments. It is most important or else you may very well fail this class," said Omi, with a smile. Jack guessed that Omi thought he was being helpful. _

"_Uh, thanks," said Jack, who heard the other students around him snickering, calling him "loser": it was like they believed he wasn't even there to hear them. _

Jack gritted his teeth. It wasn't just that time, but many times that this had happened. He raised the gun and shot two more times, to his left and to his right. Both Mr. Fung and Omi held up their arms as shields, not realizing how futile it was. They slumped over on the desk they were seated in and Jack left, searching the halls.

As he roamed the halls, Jack saw students and teachers who had come out of various classrooms, curious as to what caused those loud and awful noises.

Jack opened fired on every one of them that he saw, showing no mercy. There were all expendable to him. He dropped one of his guns, abandoning it now that it had no more ammo left.

Jack decided to go to the locker rooms, this one time in his life hoping to run into a jock. He hated them too. They thought they were so great because they could kick a ball around or throw it or had some other stupid "talent".

He was disappointed when he didn't run into any of them on the way. He opened the door and there was one person in there, a boy from Brazil by the name of Raimundo. He was in the middle of changing for soccer practice; Jack guessed he hadn't heard any of the shots. Thick walls in the gym, he supposed.

Raimundo turned around and nearly cried out at the sight of Jack. He trembled and stared at Jack, dropping the pants that were in his hands. Another memory flooded Jack's brain.

_He had tried out for the soccer team like his father wanted him too, who was guided by the notion that an athletic activity would look good come college applications. Jack honestly thought that it couldn't hurt. _

_He had performed terribly at practice though, and the team rejected him. He was saddened and would've cried had he not been in front of twenty other boys his age. Raimundo, the team leader, laughed with the rest of them at Jack's lack of athletic skills. _

"_Man, can they get any lamer?" he asked the team and they roared even louder with laughter with him. Jack simply turned around and walked away. _

"_That's it, you walk away. Don't want you jinxing us," said Raimundo. _

Once again, Jack gritted his teeth. What a jerk. How perfect it was to meet Rai all alone, literally with his pants down. Again he raised the gun.

"Hey man, don't do this. Please, I'm begging you, I…," Raimundo's words were cut off as Jack walked right up to him and stuck the gun in his mouth. The Brazilian started to cry and whimpered much like Omi had. A second later he was dead, propped up only by the gun still in his mouth. Jack took it out and the boy slid to the floor, leaving a trail of blood on the locker behind him. Carefully and cautiously, Jack put a finger to the blood trail, looked at the red his finger had acquired and put it in his mouth, tasting it. It tasted good, better than he had expected. For the first time in a long while, Jack smiled and continued to lap up Raimundo's blood.

Jack left the locker room, still smiling and quite proud of himself. He couldn't believe how easy this was. Students and teachers were now flooding the halls, stupidly thinking they could get away (they must have guessed the obvious by now). Didn't the experts always say that that was not the thing to do during a shoot-out? Jack giggled as he got rid of a few more people. He saw their blood form large puddles around their bodies and decided that red was indeed his favorite color and their screams of pain were indeed his favorite type of music.

He peeked inside classrooms as he wandered the halls, seeing students and teachers huddling behind their overturned desks, textbooks scattered around the floor. Yeah, like an inch or so of plastic or wood could really save them all. He laughed some more.

He stopped when he recognized two fellow students in a room in the math wing. He never really liked math class, he thought to himself; too many numbers. He walked right in and shot the teacher and the other twelve students, leaving the two he knew alone for the moment.

Both of them were behind the same desk, quivering, like the Jell-o they served in the cafeteria, like everyone else Jack had encountered today. The boy looked like he walked right out an old western movie, wearing cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, cowboy everything for the most part. The girl had on blue jeans and a pink shirt bearing the image of Hello Kitty, her hair for once loose and not in some odd style. Jack never could remember a time when Kimiko came to school in the same outfit twice. He guessed her dad never could say no to her requests for clothes and other things.

Clay, the cowboy, was holding Kimiko close to him, and she was quietly sobbing into his chest. He too was crying, with his head down. He didn't have to look up; Jack knew that he knew that Jack was standing there, at their backs with his guns ready. Jack thought they actually looked kind of cute in each other's arms, despite the fact that they were surrounded by dead classmates, the puddles of blood growing as the minutes passed, and had no where to run to. He thought it was cute the way Clay wrapped his arms around Kimiko, like he could actually protect her, save her from Jack's rampage.

Another memory came to Jack's mind.

_It would be few weeks before Jack would come to school with more guns than one thought could possibly fit in a trench coat, though even he himself did not yet know it would happen; the idea for it wasn't there yet. He was sitting alone in the cafeteria, at a table far from the front, not touching his food. He wanted to lash out at someone, anyone. Then he saw Kimiko, a fairly popular girl, walking down the aisle, a tray of food in her hands. Without really thinking about it, Jack stuck out his leg and tripped her, and laughed when she fell and her food splattered on the floor. _

_A few other mean-spirited kids laughed with him, even complimenting him on catching her off-guard. Jack found himself laughing even louder, sounding more and more malicious. Then, all of a sudden, Clay was there, staring him straight into his face; he didn't look happy. _

"_You dirty snake! You think that's funny, tripping the little lady like that?" Clay said, moving a few steps back to help Kimiko up and throw out what would have been her lunch. _

_Jack couldn't really think of an answer, instead choosing to inch a few feet away from him to avoid whatever wrath he may have earned from the cowboy. Not that Clay stuck around; once Kimiko was back on her feet, he led her away, and Jack could hear him offering to buy her another lunch, to make up for what was now wasted. She had said something along the line of "thank you" and several girls sitting in surrounding tables, known for their gossiping ways, were giggling about how "sweet" Clay was and whether or not this meant they were an item._

_After about five minutes, everyone went back to their food and, once again, Jack was alone. _

"Look at me," said Jack.

And Clay did look up at him, though Kimiko didn't move. If anything, her sobbing got just a bit louder. The fear was plain on Clay's face, the one eye Jack could see from behind the boy's blond hair tearing up some more.

"Get up. Both of you or I swear I will kill you right now," said Jack. They did as they were told, Kimiko not letting go of Clay's arm. Jack found that strange; Kimiko was normally such a fiery girl, not taking crap from anybody. She didn't hide behind others or seek their protection.

Ah, but the tides had changed; Jack was the one who decided their fate. He was the one with the power, in the form of fast moving lead bullets.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you two leave this room alive," said Jack. He doubted he would be surprised by the answer.

"Partner, please, you know this ain't right. Let us go," begged Clay.

"I don't care whether it's right or wrong, or what my parents would think, or what anyone thinks! All of you had this coming!" replied Jack.

Just then, Jack had a most marvelous idea. He grinned and both Clay and Kimiko cringed.

"I'll be nice. Kimiko, get in front of the hick."

"No! At least let her go. Kill…kill me," said Clay, more tears streaming down his face.

"Shut up. Stand in front of him." She did as she was told. Jack then took out the shotgun he had been saving in his coat. Clay's lone eye widened. It figures; he was from the American South and probably knew a good deal about guns. Jack saw the terror in his eye.

"That's right cowboy, you're both going down at the same time. You won't have to watch her flop around on the floor first or anything like that. Just one question though." Jack took a few steps toward them, still grinning. "Do you believe in God?"

"Yeah. I do," was all Clay said, Kimiko just shaking her head "yes". Jack still wasn't surprised. "Still believe in fairy tales, huh?" he said. Jack pulled the trigger on the shotgun, the bullet going through both of them. They fell onto the tile floor at the same time, moaned in pain at the same time and, as far as Jack could tell, even their eyes became the dull hue of death at the same time.

How cute.

Jack left the classroom and didn't see anyone else in the building. They must have gotten out by now. Papers were left on the ground, abandoned in the mad dash quest for safety. He then heard the stomping of heavy boots, coming towards him.

"Freeze! Don't move!" said the man, whose blue pants and shirt, black bullet-proof vest, and black helmet with face shield revealed that he was some sort of S.W.A.T team member, or something like that. He had about ten other men with him, covering his back.

"Hello. I won't be staying much longer," said Jack as he put the handgun he held to his head. His "mission" was accomplished; they had paid dearly for hurting him so. Another second passed and Jack Spicer was dead, in a heap on the floor, still smiling.

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**Author's Notes: Now wasn't that just utterly depressing? What do you think?**

**Edit: I know that this is yet another story where the characters are in high school and that such stories already flood just about every fandom. But in defense of my fic, this had nothing to do with everybody going to prom or typical stuff like that. Of course, if you've read it and are at this point right now, you'd know that.**


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